


20th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [20]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blood, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Macro/Micro, Rape/Non-con Elements, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Slut Shaming, Spitroasting, beastiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-03-26 18:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19011007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: 20th Batch of my fics





	1. Reaper/Soldier76

**Author's Note:**

> R76 – micro/macro – Gabriel got shrunk. First it’s all fun and games, then someone just has to get horny.

Jack is taken aback by the visceral stab of need he feels when he sees Gabriel sleeping on his pillow.

Literally on his pillow.

Gabriel is small enough these days to curl up on it and blanket himself with a towel from the bathroom.

The accident has been weird and amusing all around; the effects of Moira’s experimentations will not last indefinitely, and they’ve all had great laughs about the small Blackwatch commander, so standing there staring at this two-handfuls-of-Gabriel-Reyes and having the urge to fuck him is… jarring, to say the least.

Jack is flustered. He wants to step back out of his bedroom and pretend like he’s never been here and thought about whether he could fit just the tip of his dick into his tiny lover; but his body doesn’t obey, and his legs take him even closer.

He’s carried Gabriel around – everybody has, at this point. Gabriel might bitch about it and pretend like he hates it, but he finds the whole situation just as funny as everybody else – and he knows how his lover’s plump little ass feels filling out his palm like it was made for it.

In his head, Gabriel will just keep sleeping when he reaches for him and carefully curls his hands around him. Just keep being a perfect little doll and let Jack feel him up.

In reality, Gabriel’s eyes snap open just a split second before Jack actually touches him. His thick dark brows twitch, one small, heavily muscled arm jerking up, hand curling tightly around the tip of Jack’s finger.

Jack pulls in a sharp breath and shifts his stance as his cock starts to plump up. Holy shit he’s getting a hard-on over this. Holy shit.

“The fuck?” Gabriel mutters. His voice is a bit higher than usual, but way deeper than one would assume from a person of his stature. “The hell do you want? I was sleeping…”

Jack stares at him. He blinks slowly, brain stalling as his blood is rushing down, eyes flicking from the little hand around his finger, to Gabriel’s scarred, annoyed face, to the broad shoulders and round muscles of his pecs, just about visible above the line of the towel.

He wants to murmur an apology and something lame about just having wanted to properly tuck him in again, but instead he says: “Wanna fool around?”

Gabriel immediately doesn’t look all that tired anymore. There’s a weird expression on his face as he looks Jack up and down.

“You serious?” he says, only sounding slightly exasperated. Jack nods slowly. He’s already fucking said it; there was no need to pretend otherwise now. Especially since his cock is a fat obvious line down his thigh.

Gabriel pushes the towel away.

“Let’s do this.”

.o.

Gabriel is delicious. He always has been; but something about him being this perfect shrunken human is… irresistible. His muscles are tight and fit, and Jack can’t stop touching him; first with trembling fingers, then with his tongue.

He can feel every trembling ridge of Gabriel’s belly. He can feel the hard tiny points of his tits.

Jack is getting dizzy with how hard his cock is, throbbing painfully, the tip dragging against the fabric of his underwear until he tries to push it down his hips but can’t manage to coordinate himself enough even for that little bit. Gabriel is a panting mess. He’s flushed and delicious, lying on Jack’s pillow, his broad little chest heaving. (God, his pecs even jiggle gently with the motion. Jack is almost nutting just at how _perfect_ this little version of his lover is.)

Jack leans back down, eyeing the jut of Gabriel’s cock. He can make out the little scar at the base of the shaft where someone had tried to castrate Gabriel years and years ago. The one that he loves showering with attention. Gabriel’s hands come up against his cheeks, holding him back from dragging his big, soft tongue between his muscular little thighs.

Jack glances up, staring into Gabriel’s face.

“Not good?” he rumbles. He lifts a hand, his finger looking obscene between Gabriel’s whorishly splayed thighs. He carefully nudges against his tender little balls. He can’t stop staring at the way they move in the loose sac when he brushes against them. Gabriel shudders. He stops holding Jack back by the cheeks and instead reaches down, curling both hands around his finger.

“Shit… Jackie…” he whines. His feet scramble against the pillow to dig into it and angle his knees farther apart. His cheeks spread, giving the slightest glimpse of his tiny hole.

There’s no fucking way Jack could have ever fit even just the tip of his cock in there. But… a finger…

His nails are always clipped short, and they have lube… plenty of it...

Gabriel works with him. There’s no other way they could make it fit. They can’t look at each other, the tips of their ears burning, but their shame is also not enough to make them stop. Jack is pressing the heel of his hand against his dick, enough to make his eyes water with pain. 

Gabriel is impossibly warm inside. He sounds panicked; like he’s about to be ripped apart by Jack’s pinkie; and looking at it, he can believe it. Jack’s wrist is curled unnaturally and painful, but it’s the only angle he can fuck his lover on his pinkie and stare at the fat little arch of his dick gently bouncing while he’s doing it.

He hopes it’ll take a while for the experiment to wear off. He needs more of this. More.


	2. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R76 – humiliation; slut shaming; dirty talk; soft ending – Jack walks in on Gabriel post jerk-off session and can’t help but ravish him.

Jack had imagined their reunion – if indeed there ever would have been one – to be a lot more gentle and loving and full of kisses and ‘I love you’s and ‘I’m sorry’s. 

Instead, it is filled with him grunt fucking into Gabriel, sweat beading at the edge of his receding hairline and Gabriel sobbing into his pillow as he grabs it for dear life.

It is almost off-putting how desperately Gabriel is sobbing; his broad shoulders shaking as he tries to muffle himself in his pillow – if it weren’t for him still re-adjusting his knees every now and then, trying to find purchase that will keep him from sliding away and put a nice receiving counter point to Jack’s aggressive, deep thrusts.

“You’re so sloppy,” he rasps, leaning deeply above Gabriel, breath puffing hot against the back of his shoulder. “Wouldn’t have thought you to be such a _whore_ , Gabriel… going around and spreading your legs for any passerby… letting them fuck you until your hole is gaping and ready to just spread for any old dick sniffing after you…”

Gabriel stills at that for just a moment, his breathing hitching and shuddering before he shakes his head in denial.

“No…” he rasps, voice high-pitched and pathetic. It is strange and very familiar to see and hear _Reaper_ like this. Gabriel, yes… _Reaper_ , though… he would have thought that all these years apart, the experiments and near (and actual) deaths would have changed Gabriel up in ways that nobody could really understand, but it seems at the core of it all, he is still a sweet little fuck that loves Jack humiliating and degrading him.

He’s always been a tough, no-nonsense kind of guy outside the bedroom, and Jack can’t deny that he’s fallen in love with how submissive and gentle he is when speared on dick.

Of course he can see the still-wet dildo that is peeking out of the bedside drawer, freshly used and probably put there to be taken care off in the morning when Gabriel has stopped his post-orgasm nap. (God, they’re old…)

But dirty talking Gabriel comes to Jack as naturally as breathing, and seeing his ashen shoulders darken with a flush is doing almost more things to him than feeling Gabriel’s sloppy, pouting cunt hugging his cock butter soft and receptive.

“You’re a dirty slut, Gabriel… I’ve always known that you offer your ass up to strangers, but I hadn’t thought they’d still be interested in an old bastard like you…”

Gabriel whimpers and shakes his head again, his ass tilting up into the punishing breeding. Jack almost feels bad for making him cry, but he is running feverishly hot and he hasn’t seen him so solid and non-smokey in months and years.

He is firm and sturdy beneath Jack’s grabbing hands, and when Jack pulls out to urge him to turn around on his back, he does struggle – but doesn’t turn into a puff of nanite smoke to slide away from his old lover’s bullying.

Jack manhandles him around just this side of brutally, pinning him and staring into Gabriel’s slack, flushed face, scarred cheeks wet with tears.

Gabriel hides it behind his hands within seconds, knees angling farther apart with obedient submission. Jack lets him do as he wants and shuffles closer, easily slipping into the butter soft gape of his hole that Gabriel unwittingly prepared by fucking himself on his toy earlier.

Not knowing Jack would seek him out under a flimsy excuse.

Not knowing Jack’s cock has been perpetually wet for him for decades, and seeing him lie there, stretched out and naked and peaceful in post-orgasmic bliss would get him to snap in an instant.

“What’s this?” Jack croons as he looks between Gabriel’s massive thighs and sees his cock, flaccid and seemingly uninterested; a soft dick bouncing against the inside of his leg as he gets dicked by his former lover. “Too old to get it up, are you? Old and used-up cunt…”

He moves Gabriel’s cock with his finger to watch it slip and slide against his belly instead. God, he wants to lean down and suckle it into his mouth. Keep it nice and warm against his tongue until Gabriel has got the stamina back to grow nice and big and fat against Jack’s rough palate.

But that would ruin the moment, quite frankly.

Gabriel is sobbing; he sounds almost a bit hysterical at that point, his tight belly clenching and relaxing in the precursor of a nice dry orgasm he’s about to have on Jack’s cock.

“You’re a sloppy old whore, Gabriel… Probably get dicked so often that your cunt is just perpetually fucked soft…” He purrs this at him, leaned deeply across him as his hips move, sliding his cock deep into Reaper’s belly and feeling his squishy, fever hot insides clench down all around him.

“No… no…” Gabriel denies with a wet sob. He looks up at Jack now, eyes big and brown and wet; the same sweet submissive stare from decades ago; the one Jack hadn’t thought he’d ever see again.

He hadn’t anticipated their first time to be anything like this; jumping in right at the deep end, but… well.

He leans down even further, nosing against Gabriel’s wet cheek and feeling a bit sheepish at how hard he has been on him right from the get-go.

“I know,” he whispers softly, working his arms beneath Gabriel and awkwardly cradling him to him as his hips keep pumping, albeit slower. More sensual. Making Gabriel feel every inch of his cock as he grinds in deep.

“I know…” 

Gabriel clings to him.


	3. McCree/Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McR76 – (faux) beastiality; rape-turned-consensual; werewolves Gabriel and Jesse – Jack just can’t believe it.

The damned wolves are a plague. They’ve gotten two of Jack’s sheep, somehow managing to break into the barn, and now they are creeping around his cornfields, howling at the moon and keeping him awake despite him _needing_ his well-deserved sleep.

He’s been out and about all day, fixing any small holes in the barn, and trying to calm his animals down despite the rusty bloodstains still at one corner of the space.

He’s unsure how the beasts even got in. They have to be exceptionally smart.

He has his gun cocked, slowly making his way through the rows of corn, listening intently for the rustling of the sharp leaves around him. He will get rid of the wolves tonight. He’s alone on the small farm and is working himself to the bone – there is no space for him to lose any of his animals. Next time they might even get one of this precious cows, and what then?!

Jack tries to be sharp and keep his eyes open, but the day has been long and arduous, and he can feel his eyeballs ache in their sockets as he forces himself to wander through the rows of his field and see anything in the midst of leaves and stems.

When he suddenly gets bowled over from behind, he thinks dazedly that the intellect of these animals is… frightening, almost.

When one big paw steps on his wrist, exerting pressure and threatening with sharp, sturdy claws until he has to let go off his gun, _almost_ frightening becomes _absolutely_ frightening.

Jack stares with his mouth hanging open as the huge black furred wolf _shoves his goddamn gun away_  from him, while the other one is standing above him, huge and brown and panting. When Jack tries to twist around to not have his back to him, he only catches a glimpse of big teeth flashed at him in what looks like a fascinatingly lazy grin.

_What kind of wolves are these?!_

Intelligent ones. Very intelligent. They make short work of his clothes, ripping at the back of his overalls until his ass is out in the cool night air. When he feels the hot puff of their breath against the underside of his sensitive balls, he nearly pisses himself with fear.

“What the fuck?” he whimpers, usually gruff voice gone high pitched and pathetic as he digs his fingers into the soft soil and tries to crawl away. The black wolf is in front of him in an instant, growling at him and gnashing his teeth. There’s a scar across the back of his nose where no fur is growing.

The dark eyes boring into Jack look… human. There’s no other word for it.

He is distracted from the sight by the other wolf suddenly mounting up, front legs hugging around Jack’s hips as his hips come in and the wet, hot line of his cock slaps against his exposed ass.

Jack’s mouth drops open in thoughtless shock. What the… what the _fuck?!_ This is not… happening?? He is _not_ about to be raped by a bunch of mangy wolves?!

Except that he is.

And he likes it.

The first few stumbling thrusts that spear him on the nasty length of doggy cock are… uncomfortable. He wants to say _agonizing_ , of course, but that is not the case. The animal’s cock is tapered and slippery, and opening his rim up almost gently as his intestines get filled more and more with the wolf’s hot cock.

When he looks back from the aggressive face of the one in front of him, he can see the wide sharp grin of the one on his back and the happy wag of his tail.

He’s enjoying mounting his newfound bitch, and looks as jovial as they come, breeding him.

He is getting fucked by a dog.

Jack’s head feels feverish and full, like it is filled with cotton to the point of bursting. Every harsh thrust has him slightly rock forward, shocked little gasps teased from him as his belly slowly but surely feels like it is on fire.

The dog is scrabbling at him, sharp claws catching at Jack’s clothes as it looks for a better purchase to deep dick his bitch, and Jack is pathetically grateful that he is indeed still wearing something.

The wolf’s angle changes slightly. His cock is not as fat as a human one, but he makes up for it in length and with how liberal he is with the pre-cum he pumps out. Everything slides smoothly, allowing him to soon be balls deep inside Jack’s cunt. With the new angle he is pressing tantalizingly against his prostate, too; no straight-on pummeling, but a gentle, barely-there pressure that is almost worse. It makes Jack’s nerves light on fire and his balls tingle as his cock fattens.

The wolf in front of him seems to deem him suitably cowed – or maybe he smells that Jack is shamefully getting into being speared on their nasty doggy cocks – because he turns sideways and lets Jack have a look at his dick, an angry red as it bounces beneath its black-furred belly.

Jack stares at it, mouth hanging open, saliva suddenly starting to gather.

It is difficult to lift his and from the soil when the stud on his back is heavy and still giving it to him deep and hard and fast, but eventually he manages to let himself sink down on his elbow for a better stand that allows him to curl his shaking fingers around the second dog cock.

The wolf stays calm, patiently so. He doesn’t even twitch when Jack carefully pulls his cock over to lap at the salty tip, his belly clenched into a tight nervous fist.

A voice in the back of his head is screaming a constant litany of ‘what the fuck?!’ but he’s stopped listening to it. His hole is on fire, he’s got a cock in his belly, and he’s about to fuck his throat on another slippery dog cock.

Maybe he’s just dreaming.


	4. McCree/Reinhardt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McRein – talon!Reinhardt; rape/non-con/dub-con; blood; begging – Jesse had wholly miscalculated his situation.

Just about at the time that Mister Wilhelm fucks his big cock into Jesse’s way too small guts, Jesse remembers exactly why it is such a bad idea to not only fraternize with the enemy but also grow complacent with him.

It’s not like he had played them any information or tried to double cross Overwatch – but he also hasn’t seen any need to be particularly difficult with them when they did manage to capture him.

In Jesse’s mind there’s been no need to make the whole ordeal more difficult than needed on himself, and Wilhelm had been an extraordinarily good host, considering the circumstances.

However, that impression had lasted to about the time that this behemoth of a man has gotten the fat tip of his cock to kiss up to Jesse’s asshole.

He shouldn’t have trusted any of them to not hurt him, and he should have trusted Wilhelm least of all to be cordial to him when slipping Jesse over his massive dick like an ill-fitting condom.

There’s not enough slick and way too much stretch, and Jesse can’t find his breath for the longest time. It’s stuck in his throat, burning about as much as his poor asshole as it gets stretched way beyond its limits.

“Stop!” he gurgles when he finally can manage to catch one of the words uselessly flying around his head. He doesn’t know what he thought letting the behemoth put him on his belly and drag his pants down. Feeling his cock in his ass like a baseball bat makes him realize that even with a bucket of lube this would have been an ill-advised endeavor.

Wilhelm, of course, does not stop. He makes a mildly interested sound in the back throat, but ultimately does not even pause as a token show of good will.

Jesse has horribly miscalculated the whole situation.

.o.

McCree is howling like a virgin but Reinhardt is used to that. They usually can be as sloppy and slutty as they want – once he starts working his dick into them they all start singing the same song.

He does not pay it much mind. McCree has been practically drooling for his cock from day one, and in his opinion he is only being a good host in finally giving his guest what he’s so clearly been gagging for.

It is not his fault that the stupid slut’s eyes were bigger than...well. Any of his orifices, really.

McCree is an old whore, but it must have been a while since he last got put through his paces. His rim is wrapped painfully tight around Reinhardt’s shaft, and he’s only stuffed about half of his cock into him yet.

With every new push and squeeze, McCree is howling for a mercy or reprieve that he will not find within the base of Talon. Maybe it had been more cruel to make him think they weren’t ‘all that bad’.

It is of no concern. Reinhard is leaning forward, fisting the unkempt hair of the gunslinger, and uses it to drag hi a few inches further onto his cock. His insides are molten and wet, and trembling like a virgin’s cunt around him. It would be positively divine if not for McCree’s tough cries that are slowly but surely hitching into slightly hyperventilating sobs.

God, how pathetic… Did it really just take one cock pushing a bit meanly into his belly to make him crumble like a wet tissue? Reinhardt is frowning and reaching beneath his thick, hirsute belly to search for the prisoner’s dick.

Were all Overwatch operatives pushovers like McCree? Had they all been misreading them and given them more credit than necessary?

Reinhardt’s thoughts stop and take a turn when he bumps into McCree’s cock – hard and a bit wet at the tip. He grins slowly, curling his fingers around it while McCree gurgles and his insides tremble around the massive cock that feels like it is sawing him clean through the middle.

“Seems like the lady doth protest too much,” Reinhardt booms with a throaty laugh. He forces in the last few inches of his cock, and McCree yowls like a cat in heat, head thrown back and vein throbbing at the side of his throat.

He’s hiccuping out sobs when Reinhardt finally starts the long pull back, and when he stares down to see the way McCree’s rim is spread to its limits, wet and pouting and on the precipice of a prolapse from the massive intruder, he can see blood smeared on his shaft.

“Oh dear… have I broken my little toy already?” Reinhardt croons in fake dismay. “I’m so clumsy… oh my…”

He fucks back into McCree on the couple inches he has dragged out of him, and McCree sobs – but his cock also kicks in Reinhardt’s fist, hard and interested in a way the rest of his master does not seem to share.

“I like old sluts like you, McCree,” he continues, more conversationally now as he fucks him in a calm rhythm, ignoring his victim’s shouts. “They know how to take dick. They don’t necessarily can, as you can see… feel… but they sure know how to at least try and make it work. You’re sturdy. You can take it, don’t you?”

McCree’s shaking arms give in and he hides his wet face in the crook of an elbow. His cock is steadily drooling, jerking despite the immense pain of his rectum. Or maybe because of it. Reinhardt grins, ranging above the man like a mountain. He should have done this earlier. But the look of surprised dismay might not have been as sweet.


	5. McShimadacest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McShimadacest – double (double) penetration; non-con gone consensual – McCree and Hanzo get caught.

“Oh no… don’t let yourselves get distracted on our behalf,” Sojiro murmurs as he slides the doors to Hanzo’s bedroom open to cordially let Genji slip inside before he follows.

The two on Hanzo’s bedroll have frozen mid undulation, heads jerked around, staring at them with slowly dawning horror. Hanzo’s cheeks, already a ruddy red from having been fucked in long, deep strokes by the brute hanging over his back like an ape, go positively flaming.

McCree is blinking rapidly, as if his brain needs to reboot after all activity has been focused on wondering how to best position Hanzo to be able to drive deeper and harder into his butter soft cunt.

“As I recall,” Sojiro says slowly, voice heavily accented and purring, standing just an arm’s length away while Genji circles them like a shark, “I have employed you under the premise of ensuring my son’s safety.”

Sojiro’s dark eyes follow the line of their bodies; Hanzo pale and silky smooth, and McCree’s a ruddy red, flushed from excitement and exertion, hirsute like the brute he is.

“I do not quite recall the satiation of other needs being in your contract.”

The tips of Hanzo’s ears are burning hot while Genji snickers. He’s wearing a ridiculous ensemble of a crop top and tight leggins. There’s quite the probability that he’s been the perpetrator that made Sojiro aware of their frantic fucking in the first place, just by virtue of lingering outside Hanzo’s doors and spying on his brother’s defilement.

“I, uh… listen…” Jesse clears his throat, trying to find his equilibrium. His big hands are on Hanzo’s hips, gently pushing against him to urge him forward while he slides back – obviously intent on slipping out of the warm, silky clutch of his son’s sloppy cunt.

Well… he can’t have that.

“Stop.” He says it calmly, voice not raised, but McCree freezes even so, his chest heaving. There’s a drop of sweat slowly slipping from beneath his unkempt mop of hair and sliding down his temple.

“Genji.” Sojiro extends one hand, and Genji swoops to grab the lube that had been nudged off of the side of the bedroll. He pushes it into his father’s hand with a shit eating grin on his face that he directs to Hanzo who has taken to staring down between his braced forearms in mortification.

“Listen… I can… explain-” McCree tries weakly. He obviously hasn’t understood the situation he is in, yet. Sojiro smiles at him thin lipped and without mirth as he lifts the tube of lube and eyes it for how much is still left.

“Oh I am sure you can come up with an amusing little story… I might even want to hear it one of these days. But right now all I need from you is to stay nice and still.”

“What…?”

McCree watches in dumb confusion as Sojiro steps towards him and lowers himself onto his knees behind the young man.

“What’re you doin’?” McCree slurs, a definite edge of panic lacing into his tone. His confusion stops, however, when he feels Sojiro’s long, slick fingers against his hairy little hole. His mouth snaps shut with an audible click, and when Sojiro’s other hand gently slides the mess of long brown hair to the side in a parody of gentleness, he can see how red McCree’s neck has become.

“Nice and still now, McCree,” Sojiro all but purrs.

.o.

The two sandwiched between Genji and himself make the most delicious little sounds of reluctant pleasure. McCree even more so than Hanzo – as the mouth of his eldest is occupied by the cock of his youngest.

Genji had only waited about a minute or two of confirming that Sojiro had truly started working his cock into McCree’s hirsute cunt before he dropped to his knees in front of his brother and dragged his tight leggins down to let his cock spring free – previously just a fat, slowly wetting line along on the crease of his hip.

It had looked delicious bouncing in the air; the tip flushed a needy pink and a few bubbles of pre-cum lazily oozing from the slit. Now it is stuffed to the base in his brother’s throat.

Hanzo had shaken his head, a token protest as he presumably tried not to look like a total slut in front of his new _boyfriend_ , but a hard hand in his hair showing him unmistakably his place had quickly quelled the barely-there rebellion.

All the while Sojiro is paying attention to his own little darling.

McCree could have been a lot more vocal about his protest; maybe even tried to fight his way out of it – but he stayed nice and quiet for the father of his little darling to fuck into his hairy hole and stretch him out on the fat cock that had produced Hanzo in the first place.

His hips are shivering in Sojiro’s grip. He feels like a young colt, vibrating with energy and nervousness, and it wouldn’t surprise him if the young man told him it was his first time getting his cunt stretched on dick.

How very endearing.

Sojiro is glancing across McCree’s head towards Genji whose head is bowed to watch the pink stretch of Hanzo’s lips around his cock, obviously trying to find out if Hanzo has lost any of his cocksucking charme in the past two-or-so months that he hadn’t been able to play with his big brother.

The lovers are being bounced between the two of them, speared on cock rather neatly, and unable to help their reluctant mewls of pleasure.

Pushovers, the lot of them.


	6. Reaper/Lúcio/Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Soldier/Gabriel – continuation of B19, F1 – double penetration; extreme insertion – Lúcio loves them so much

Lúcio’s formerly miserable face immediately lights up, and he tries to crawl onto Jack’s lap. His little booty shorts are in the way, though, so in the end he has to let papa drag him sideways onto his broad lap while his arms curl around his shoulders.

He likes playing with his daddy and his papa. He even likes it when they are a bit rougher and meaner about it and make him feel dirty and humiliated. He likes when they slap his cock around some and call him a slut for loving it.

But he also likes it when they are just themselves - gentle and loving and telling him what a precious, sweet boy he is. When they spread him out and touch him all over until he is so tingly it is almost a torture all on its own.

Lúcio grins at Jack, leaning in and up to beg for a kiss. Before Jack can give it to him, though, there is the gentle sound of the door sliding open and closing behind someone again. Neither of them tenses - these are restricted rooms. The number of people that Athena would let in without announcement is intimately small.

Small enough that Lúcio starts squirming in excitement long before Gabriel steps into the room they are occupying. His tight, dark face smooths out into a small smile immediately when he sees their young lover sitting on Jack’s lap.

“There you are… I’ve been searching you all over the place.” He comes closer in a few long strides, eyebrows lifting when he sees that Lúcio’s little shorts have been dragged down enough to let his plump cock out, arching into the air, wet at the tip. Delicious looking.

“Playin’ without daddy?” he drawls. Jack is leaning his cheek against his fist, looking like a king with his concubine on his lap.

“I tried… But he’s too cute to be mad at.”

“Why would you be mad at him?” Gabriel queries with his eyebrows drawn up. Lúcio can feel the mood behind him shifting immediately, the air around Jack changing as he gets himself back into the mood. Lúcio shivers, goosebumps pebbling all over his body and making his nipples go small and tight.

“Glad that you ask…” Papa purrs and Lúcio whimpers.

.o.

Lúcio doesn’t know if they are actively trying to drive him insane, but they are doing so anyway.

He is basically vibrating between their cocks, teary eyed gaze up on Gabriel’s face, hanging on to every word of his while Jack is making sure his ass is on fire and their boy doesn’t miss any second of it.

“You’re a nasty little cock whore,” Papa growls from behind, his large palm coming down on Lúcio’s ass in another slap that zings through his body and ends, weirdly enough, with a throbbing ache in his balls. “You would’ve let anybody at your sloppy cunt…”

Lúcio wants to shake his head vehemently, tell him ‘no! I’m a good boy!’ but his lips are stretched wide around daddy’s cock, and his throat is burning with Gabriel patiently trying to nudge the wide tip of it inside its tight clutch.

“Calm… You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” Gabriel croons in direct juxtaposition to Jack’s words and the way he makes his ass burn on the big, barely slicked cock fucking into him. “You only want to be a sweet little cockslut, don’t you?”

The tight seal of Lúcio’s lips around Gabriel’s cock breaks as he opens up wide and pants softly, a reedy wheeze coming from him while daddy’s cock presses down on his tongue.

Gabriel lifts one eyebrow at him, but he lets him have the break, big hands framing Lúcio’s head, thumbs swiping against his cheeks.

Lúcio wants to fixate on it, to distract himself from the harsh pummeling from behind that has his rim feel on fire, but as if sensing what is going on in his head, Jack suddenly stops all motion altogether.

Lúcio whimpers, nervously rolling his eyes as if he would be able to see anything going on behind him while he’s getting stuffed from the front by cock.

“You’re so loose,” papa muses, his gravelly voice dragging against Lúcio’s spine. “I bet you could even…”

He trails off, a curious note in his voice. Lúcio is trembling between them, feeling tender and vulnerable, and filled to the brim with dick. He is still wearing his soccer shirt, and he wishes someone would push it up and play with his tits just to distract him from feeling like his belly is going to burst open from dick.

And then he can't think of anything much anymore because Jack is nudging two wide, blunt fingers against his too stretched rim and hooking them carefully inside Lúcio alongside his dick. There are colorful stars exploding in their young lover’s vision, brain short circuiting as his ears fill with the nice, dull sound of his blood rushing, drowning out Jack’s rough degradation and Gabriel’s gentle praise as daddy pulls back gently to let him properly breathe while smearing his spit wet dick all over Lúcio’s cheeks.

They become more careful with him then; Jack pretending like he’s still rough and heartless with him, when in reality he is only moving incrementally, careful not to hurt his baby boy’s ass while he fucks him on the immense stretch.

When Lúcio’s brain starts to come back online, the first thing he notices, of course, is the way his rim is stretched impossibly, painfully, the burn gently radiating throughout his body. But he also notices the warmth in his chest. How secure and safe he feels with his two lovers despite how rough their plays can get at times.

If he had a tail, he would wag it.


	7. Doomfist/Zenyatta + Maximilien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doomyatta + Maximilien – continuation of B19, F7 – Direct continuation :)

Zenyatta’s voice is glitched and Akande looks absolutely enamored by it. He’s long since stopped to even pretend like what he’s doing to their pet is meant as a kind of punishment, and Maximilien would have frowned fiercely if he would have been able to. Instead he has to stew in his own quiet anger, aggressively flipping the coin higher and higher with precise, clear sounds of metal on metal.

The bar’s occupants are a faceless, noiseless sea around them, slowly bearing down on them in a tight ring, then receding again like the tide as if realizing in a couple minute intervals that the man they are watching carefully fit his big cock into a slippery little cunt is too dangerous to upset.

“You are being too gentle,” Maximilien finally comments, voice sharp. Akande turns his head and throws him a dark, heated look.

“I think as the winner of our match it is mine to decide how to best treat my boon.”

Maximilien’s hand trembles minimally before it steadies perfectly and he snips the coin up into the air once more. When next he snatches it into his palm, he steps towards the pool table in three precisely measured steps.

He leans in, not touching either of the two, but tilting his head to at least see what is going on between their hips.

Akande still has about half of his shaft to cram into Zenyatta’s little clutch. It has not been exactly produced with the dimension of Mr. Ogundimu in mind, but Zenyatta is nothing if not happy about getting his silky little snatch destroyed on the human’s massive cock.

He trills and arches his back, showing off the little slip of his waist and the fine machinery hidden in the strong column of his spine. He tries to grab with blunt, slippery metal fingers on to the felt of the table, but can’t find any real purchase. He probably wants to be a  _good boy_  and brace himself so Akande does not have to do all the work, and the fact that he’s so helpful to the human when he pretends to be a lazy pillow princess for Maximilien makes steam rise from his throat all anew.

“You need to show him his place,” Maximilien says, trying for cool but failing it by a small timbre in his voice; a slight scratch emanating from his voice box that makes him sound more desperate and frustrated than he wants the two of them to know.

“He knows his place well enough,” Akande murmurs with an amused lilt to his voice. His huge hands are on Zenyatta’s metal waist, holding steadfast as he drags the omnic down and forces his slippery teal lips to spread that little bit wider around the thick base as he bottoms out.

Zenyatta jerks, his head tilting back, the dim lights of the bar catching beautifully on the brushed gold of his jaw. His clit is obscenely plump right there at the apex of his labia, snuggled into the wiry black of Akande’s pubes. It is slowly pulsing with color; a thick, lewd beat to a throbbing bass that nobody can hear.

“He knows that he is made for my cock, for one,” Akande continues, voice a bit breathy, a single drop of sweat forming on the side of his forehead and running down his temple.

Maximilien’s hands shoot out and slam on ridge of the pool table, his coin squeezed between cool metal palm and warm wood. He grabs tightly, staring at the two of them.

“He is having  _fun_ ,” he says accusatory, and Zenyatta, the slut, chirps in what Maximilien thinks is blatant exaggeration of what he actually feels when Akande starts a slow drag back out of the tight clutch of his synthetic cunt. He’s doing it just to be contrary. His head is turned to the side, visual sensors fixed on Maximilien. Gauging every reaction just to play with him.

Harlot. Conniving little-

“Maybe you are right,” Akande says musingly. “Maybe I am a bit too soft on him…”

He suddenly bucks inwards, and Zenyatta does not say a word, but his body jerks and his arms shoot out, trying to grab the edges of the pool table, surprise clearly radiating from the way his voice box has suddenly become  _very_  quiet.

Akande rearranges his grip on him once more, dragging him a little further down, placing Zenyatta’s hips to be hanging just  _this_  much over the pool table, before his languid demeanor changes completely.

Maximilien’s fingers tighten around the wood until it gently cracks, though this time in delight as Akande finally lays into Zenyatta just the way the feisty little whore needs and deserves.

Zenyatta’s voice box seems to be glitched into silence. He is scrabbling around and not finding much purchase, the gentle whirring of his machinery and the frantic squelching of his cunt being properly worked on a cock the only sounds filling their little space for a few blessed moments.

It’s not the first time Zenyatta gets put to work; gets his little snatch destroyed until he’ll have to spend a few hours afterwards to recalibrate everything and maybe realign dainty little metal plates that got bent out of shape – but he obviously has not been expecting Akande to let himself get seduced by Maximilien whispering angrily into his ear.

It’s delicious when he does find his voice back; his glitches and chirps sounding a lot more urgent and a lot more real this time around as he hiccups out garbled fragments of sentences that might not always have anything to do with what is happening and are simply pushed out by his processors in the garbled haste of one program or another.

It fits beautifully into the wet squelch of his cunt; the obscene slurping sound of suction whenever Akande pulls away and the displacement of air when he pushes back in. His cunt is clinging to Akande’s cock like a suckling synthetic mouth, and Akande appreciates it with a low, rattling groan right from his chest.

The slow delicious pulsating of Zenyatta’s clit has become a frantic blinking of danger, and Maximilien knows that when Akande will reach down and meanly flick the fat nub, it will make Zenyatta offline for a bit just from the intensity of it all.

He leans back some, loosening one hand from the tight clutch and starting to flick his coin again. Smug once more.


	8. Naomasa/AllMight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naomasa/AllMight – continuation of B12, F1 and B15, F13 – semi-public; fingering; extreme size difference – They’re at the beach! And AllMight is still a nasty!

For once, they are both civilians when AllMight all but bullies Naomasa behind the little kiosk that the beach goers are swarming to on this very hot Sunday afternoon. Not wearing his badge or gun and therefore a bit more incognito makes the whole affair a lot more stress-free for Naomasa.

It shouldn’t, really; he still is a citizen that is getting his swim trunks teased down by the city’s symbol of peace right there in the open of a very crowded beach but he can’t help but feel nervous anticipation trickling through him when AllMights other huge hand gently pushes between his shoulder blades and nudges him face first against the wooden wall of the kiosk.

Nobody should be wandering back here; they are squeezed in between the little house and a big, unfriendly looking hedge – but Naomasa also knows that he has dragged couples out of worse places where they thought they could get away with a bit of outdoor fun and got spotted anyway.

Still, Naomasa just closes his eyes and leans his forehead against his braced arms. The sun is shining mind-numbingly hot on his back and AllMight has been teasing him for the longest time with his ridiculous bathing suit that looks like it is begging for death at this point, trying to keep it together around the huge round muscles of the hero.

AllMight’s fingers when they nudge between his cheeks are slick; not spit slick either. He wonders dazedly where the hell the man has produced the lube from, but at this point he frankly is too tired to ask. AllMight’s surprising filthiness has steamrolled Naomasa and left him reeling and just… done.

At this point he can only follow along, arching his back and presenting his ass, toes curling into the hot sand when his cheeks get spread and the sun hits his clenching hole. Fuck. He’s never felt the sun on his hole. It is… filthy.

It reminds him that they are _at the beach,_ and that the roaring that has rolled to the back of his head is not the crashing of the waves, but the sound of the sea of beach goers just on the other side of the little hut. He can hear children, for Christ’s sake!

Still, when one of AllMights fat fingers nudges against him, he whines high-pitched and soft and starts suckling at the ball of one thumb because it is either that or biting at himself.

The stretch is immediate and intense. AllMight is slow, teasing the tip into him, but he is still an absolute _mountain_ of a man, and his finger is fat and wide and impossible.

Naomasa lifts up onto the balls of his feat, eyes growing wet with a few tears, then rolling up into his head when the tip suddenly pops in.

He’s had men with cocks as big as one of AllMight’s fat sausage fingers. To think that he’s had the number one hero’s cock lodged up in his gut seems absolutely ludicrous, but here they are. Here they _fucking_ are.

AllMight is bracing himself with his other hand against the wall right above Naomasa’s head. For once, he is not saying a word; simply breathing hard, his huge body ranging over him and radiating even more heat than the sun slamming down on them. Naomasa starts sweating, the pearls rolling down the sides of his face and dropping down his chin.

The crowd keeps murmuring and screaming and talking and laughing on the other side, not knowing that the good inspector is right on the other side getting his hole stuffed by one of AllMight’s fat fingers.

AllMight nudges in deeper, fucking him slowly, and stars explode in front of Naomasa’s eyes. He wonders if he is having a heat stroke, quite frankly. He doesn’t think that it’s possible to get this hot and bothered from just a single digit fumbling around inside his guts and searching for his prostate – because AllMight is a very good boy… man… but he also isn’t the best with doing filigrane work.

His cock is speaking a different language, though. It is still trapped inside his swim trunks; an obscene bulge that is starting to make the fabric go dark and wet across the crown until he fumbles down to shove the fabric down enough to have it bounce out into the open as well.

Getting himself naked in public of his own free will and barely even feeling a blip of shame.

He wonders if AllMight broke him; that his constant molestation by the huge icon of peace has made him somewhat immune to the embarrassment by now. Or maybe Naomasa is just this way. That he is just so hot for the thick muscles and sturdy large man that he can’t help but get hot and bothered and slutty for him.

When AllMight nudges a second slick finger against his stretched rhim and begins to tease it inside, Naomasa’s mouth falls open, tongue lolling out in mindless shock at just how wide he is being stretched.

The thought that he has taken AllMight’s _cock_ seems absolutely ludicrous in this moment. It must have been another Naomasa. Another body. He can’t fathom his hole being able to spread any more than around those two fingers that are being fucked into him and that are trying to ruin his hole for any other cock to come.

There simply isn’t any way that he’ll ever close up nice and tight again; not after AllMight fucked two fingers into him so deep that he almost thinks he has to be able to taste them on the back of his tongue.

The sun continues to bear down on him; birds are screaming, waves are crashing, and the people are calling for more ice cream just a scant few meters away as Naomasa’s brain gets scrambled by heat and lust.


	9. Reaper/Zenyatta/Genji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reapzenji – continuation of this: cyberrat.tumblr.com/post/155634083187/reapzenji-with-sexbotzen – wet and messy; possessive Genji and Reaper; dub-con/non-con themes – Zenyatta tries out boundaries.

Zenyatta has trouble keeping his mouth closed, now that he has realized that he indeed has one. Genji – and especially Reaper – have been utmost clear about the exclusive rights they expect to all of his holes.

But… now that his mouth component has onlined, Zenyatta finds it increasingly difficult not to utilize it. He sees an agent, and his processes online immediately, filling the cavity of his mouth with thick, slimy lube that is supposed to act as his approximation of saliva.

His cunt pulses, needy and looking for an overload; a nice quick grind of some rude fingers or some dick into the swollen clutch of his channel. Maybe someone to shove him down and wrench his faceplate up to get at the greedy little mouth hidden beneath…

He wishes someone other than Genji and Reaper knew about it. He wishes there were more to utilize the dripping mouth he has been outfitted with now that he is painfully hyper aware of its existence and how new and unused all those nodes in his segmented tongue are.

He shudders to think what his two… lovers?... would do if they saw him kneeling in one of the cafeteria’s, a throng of men waiting to utilize the new found slick hole and pumping him full until his new squishy guts he has been fitted with are bloated with their cum. 

He doesn’t want to find out. Except. That he does.

It would be easy to explain his indiscretion with innocent thoughtlessness, but despite all the components they have fitted him with to interface with the humans on the Talon base, Zenyatta is still a machine at heart, and when he lets himself get rudely shoved against one of the walls in a very specific hallway, he knows with perfect certainty that Reaper will come from a meeting and stumble across him like this: one leg up, clutched in the hand of the operative that has another hand curled around Zenyatta’s delicate throat as if he were able to choke the life out of him. Zenyatta’s cunt open and on display, lewdly dripping with slimy strands of slick as it gapes, synthetic labia plump and gagging for a cock to try and stuff all of the excess slick back into him.

It’s suicidal to have chosen Reaper to stumble across him like this, but Zenyatta can’t help it. He just… can’t. There is something ugly happening with the operative that has dared to touch him, but he can’t quite make himself dedicate any of his processes to something else other than cataloguing the insistent pulse of his cunt or the way his mouth is filled with thick slick that he tries to swallow down before it can start dripping messily from the seam in his faceplate.

Reaper grabs him with a big hand, talons dripping with blood, and drags him along like he is nothing more than a doll to be played with. His programming tells him that he likes it. Loves it, really. He chirps like a whore and gets jangled around in Reaper’s grip for his effort.

When he gets thrown go the ground he knows that Genji is there as well, though he has not spotted him yet. There is pressure at the sides of his head, and his optical sensors get obstructed by the faceplate sliding up and over them.

It is scary to be rendered helpless like this. He shudders. His auditory input is garbled as processes get rerouted, and when the jumbled mess cleans itself out, he can just about catch Genji’s words. “...cheap slut, are you?”

Zenyatta turns his head towards the voice, a series of clicks and trills coming from his voice box that shouldn’t sound needy and whorish but somehow still _do_. He does not know where they are. They are not alone. There are steps around them and voices. Maybe the shooting range or another training facility.

“Open up,” Genji hisses. Reaper’s heavy booted steps are slowly rounding them. He is growling deeply, keeping others at bay.

Zenyatta’s jaw drops open, tongue lolling out as a deluge of thick, slimy saliva drips from his mouth and down his front.

His head is grabbed and a cock rammed down his throat. He chirps in surprise, voicebox glitching as nodes suddenly flare to life with an intensity that has his arms spasm uselessly. His cunt is pulsing, greedy, needing to be filled. His circuitry feels on fire; like he will short circuit and offline if he isn’t getting filled to the brim, soon.

He tries to vocalize this, but his voicebox is uselessly garbling as Genji rabbit fucks his throat and makes all the thick saliva squelch out from the corners of Zenyatta’s stretched, synthetic mouth.

They are making a point, and Zenyatta is the toy through which they are doing so. They sit him down on their cocks, filling him front and back until warning’s are flashing in the darkness behind his faceplate. He is chirping and glitching out for them, fingers scrabbling at whatever he can grab before his arms get caught and bend behind his back so he can’t do anything anymore; just take it as one big cock slides into his greedy cunt and the other fills the little hole he has been fitted with at the back.

Nobody else touches him. Nobody is allowed to. He feels like his metal is bending around their cocks, and the thought that nobody will even dare to touch him after this feral display of the two is making him tremble and leaves him desperate.

He’s used to trying to avoid the advances of other Talon agents, but now that he knows they will actively avoid _him_ , he realizes that it will be downright horrible to try and live without a steady supply of cocks to fill his dripping holes.

He made a… horrible mistake.


	10. Lúcio/Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Gabriel – continuation of the dom!Lúcio/sub!Gabriel verse; look into my AO3 collection ‘Havin’ fun?’ for more of that, or ask me on my tumblr (cyberrat) – mentions of past abuse; healthy D/s relationship; nipple rings and chain – They’re trying out something new.

Gabriel doesn’t like it when Lúcio pays too much attention to his nipples – or pecs in general. They are nice and plump and, quite frankly, a work of art in Lúcio’s opinion, but with so many things in Gabriel’s life and self-perception, playing with them has been tainted by this _other_.

Lúcio tries not to let it get to him; that someone who has only had Gabriel for a few weeks – far shorter than he has been _out_ of Gabriel’s life – would have had such an impact on the sub. That even now, months, _years_ afterwards, and within a loving and caring _healthy_ relationship, Gabriel’s face would scrunch up in immediate disgust and self loathing, arms coming up to shield is pretty nipple jewelry from view by crossing them tightly in front of him and turning away.

It is… frustrating. It really is. Lúcio doesn’t pretend like he’s above getting impatient sometimes or that he understands all of Gabriel’s hang-ups (or even finds them logical or rational), but in the end being a good partner – even above being a good Dominant – is about kindness. And a back-and-forth between them.

Gabriel is looking upset, kneeling for him and staring at the thin silver chain that is curled up all pretty in the palm Lúcio presents him with – but he _is_ kneeling.

_Our relationship is not only about me making you feel good, Gabriel. It is also about you giving me something back. We are feeding into each other’s needs, which makes this whole thing between us balanced. If I were to only give to you or you only to me, it would not be… cool._

Gabriel had looked upset, then, too. Lúcio had already been able to tell how he was coming up with all kinds of scenarios in which Lúcio could abuse his power, and while that also was frustrating – having to realize that that is still the first Gabriel’s mind is prone to jump to – he had let it slide.

Patience. Understanding.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he tells him. He is standing above him, looking down, but Gabriel looks so vulnerable in that moment that Lúcio changes tactics and crouches down in front of him. Gabriel is a big man with large muscles, easily able to overpower him, but he seems to forget his own strength when he is subbing for Lúcio.

“Do you believe me?” Lúcio asks, hoping that his own desperation is not bleeding into his words. “That I won’t hurt you?”

Gabriel nods. He looks reluctant doing so, his jaw clenched together tightly, but he at least does not hesitate.

Lúcio breathes out slowly. He cups Gabriel’s cheek with the hand not holding the nipple chain and leans in to press a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re a good boy,” he tells him, his smile genuine when he lets the chain unroll with a soft clinking of the links.  

Gabriel is sitting stiffly, eyes ahead, not watching as Lúcio leans forward and gently hooks the chain into the silver rings that are pierced through Gabriel’s cute little nipples. Gabriel makes a soft sound, not quite a grunt, at the unfamiliar weight – as negligible as it is – and shifts his ass a little against his heels. Lúcio does not comment on it. As long as he is there, he gently lets a thumb drag across Gabriel’s right nipple. God, this man truly is breathtaking.

The silver glints beautifully against Gabriel’s warm, dark skin. It accentuates just how plush his pecs are; makes them look swollen. A little bit like breasts. He does not say the last – he knows that Gabriel would immediately blow the whole thing off if he did.

“Very well. Let’s try this. If it becomes too much, you will use your safeword.”

He takes another chain and hooks that one into the ring that is perfectly centered in the little chain now between his nipples. When he stands up, he realizes that Gabriel’s chest is heaving.

His eyes are a little glassy, when Lúcio glances into them. It makes him wonder not for the first time why Gabriel would have kept all his jewelry instead of simply getting rid of it after quitting things with his old Dom.

It is a complicated matter, probably; one Lúcio can’t hope to understand, but looking at him now, how his lower lip glistens from him licking over it, and his face all soft and a bit needy, he feels like part of it is that Gabriel simply _enjoys_ having them.

Like the good boy that he is, his submissive starts crawling at the slightest hint of a tug. He is so very sensitive. Lúcio takes a few careful steps through his studio, listening to Gabriel’s heavy breaths behind him, and when he glances back, he can see how wet his submissive’s eyes have gotten. He doesn’t look like he doesn’t like it, though.

His delicious little nipples are pulled taut by the rings in them. He could alleviate the pressure simply by minimally leaning forward, but does not. His grip in the thick carpet he is on is white knuckled.

He probably would look distressed to someone who doesn’t know his little tells, but at least here Lúcio feels like he understands his submissive.

They still have a lot of way to go, but… it is worth it. It really is.

“Well… come on,” he coaxes him gently. “We’re not in the bedroom yet.”

Gabriel’s big thighs tremble but finally he lifts his ass back up from his heels and starts crawling again, eyes on Lúcio.

Trusting.


	11. Hanzo/Lúcio/McCree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo/Lúcio/McCree – size queen Hanzo; size queen in the making Lúcio; sextoy McCree – Kind of an AU? Lúcio likes to be super polite and call them Mister for some reason. It just came out that way :)))).

Misters McCree and Shimada are, in Lúcio’s eyes, just very wonderful individuals and overall nice guys. They are very patient. Especially with him trying so desperately to fit McCree’s cock into his belly and keep it nice and warm in his quivering, silky guts.

McCree is lying there like a king, his bound arms up and behind his head. Hanzo had curled his hair ribbon around the wrists a few times until only little slips of their ends were there to still make a pretty bow on top of them, and Lúcio had watched with a downright embarrassing amount of anticipation, fucking himself on one of Hanzo’s excitingly curled dildo’s to keep his hole nice and pliant and stretched as he waited for the main event.

The main event being trying to take Mister McCree’s grotesquely big cock.

Hanzo can take it. Lúcio has watched him do it when he first got approached by the two of them but got downright scared when seeing what the cowboy is packing. He’s sat there, watching with his mouth hanging open as Hanzo slipped down on more and more of McCree’s cock, stuffing it into himself until Lúcio had to press a trembling hand in front of his mouth, trying to contain a small, high-pitched scream of shock at the sight of Hanzo’s tight belly _bulging_ with cock.

So he knows it is possible. But he is even smaller than Hanzo is, and sitting on just the wide, wide tip of McCree’s cock makes him wonder whether it is possible for _him_ to take him.

Mister Shimada is very sweet to him about it. He is rubbing slippery fingers along Lúcio’s trembling rim, crooning at him and kissing at the tip of his shoulder to get him to relax and let gravity do the rest.

“It’s the hardest part,” he assures him with a deep, sinuous murmur. “Once you have it popped inside, the rest is a lot easier.”

Lúcio whimpers. His rim is on fire. He is bracing himself on Mister McCree’s hairy chest, nails digging into his skin, and Mister McCree, jovial as he is, just grins up at him heavy lidded and self-assured and croons a bit of encouragement of his own.

“Just take your time, darlin’. You’re doin’ so well. Nice little cocksleeve... So warm and tight… Gonna make sure you’re not so snug when I’m done with you.”

Lúcio’s rim stretches a bit wider. He can’t help his nervous cry, and two deep voices shush him.

McCree is lying perfectly still. It feels like he is simply offering up his big warm cock for Lúcio to play with, and Lúcio is… very grateful for it. He really, truly is. But his cock is just so… _big_ , and it feels like he is going to _rip him apart_ , and it is very scary indeed –

Until Hanzo’s hands are on his hips and help him bear down, and suddenly the fat head pops in and everything gets a lot easier afterwards. There are stars exploding in front of Lúcio’s eyes. His head feels very very light and his insides give a weird little shiver.

He can’t quite feel his feet anymore, or his arms for that matter, but he feels really good. Like he has done something extraordinarily physically demanding, and not just speared himself on the innocent tip of a cock.

Misters McCree and Shimada are praising him something fierce. Lúcio does not think he is deserving the praise, but he loves it nonetheless.

McCree in particular sounds a bit… strained, suddenly. His cheeks are a ruddy red now that Lúcio is slipping down faster on his shaft and encasing it in his warm body. (Lúcio likes to think that he is hugging that nice fat cock).

Hanzo is at his back. He has straddled McCree’s hairy thighs and is pressed to Lúcio, his own hard cock gently digging against the small of Lúcio’s back and dabbing wetness in that little groove there.

His hands are still on Lúcio’s hips, but they start to inch their way around until they are cupping Lúcio’s belly like he is a pregnant lady.

He almost… feels like it, too. He has never felt so unbelievably, irrevocably full. It feels like Mister McCree’s cock is nudging against his lungs and keeping him from taking a proper breath.

There is still quite a bit of cock to go, when suddenly there is a _buck_ from underneath, and Lúcio cries out again, hands scrabbling, fingers inadvertently pulling against McCree’s chest hair.

McCree does not look like he cares much about getting his fur tugged at. His eyes are a bit glassy and intense. His arms are still bound, but his biceps are bulging as if he is trying to pull them apart. Lúcio is fascinated by the sight of it; like McCree is something wild and dangerous that Lúcio has tamed.

There’s another buck from below, forcing more of the fat shaft into him and making it feel like the wide tip of McCree’s cock tries to root around in his belly. Lúcio can’t cry out this time, he is busy trying to breathe in general while his body shoots confused signals in all kinds of directions. None of them make sense, really.

Hanzo is saying something to McCree, but Lúcio can’t quite parse it. It might have been encouragement or a reprimand. He is not sure. It does not keep Mister McCree from trying to lift his knees and brace his heels against the bed so he can buck up again with more force.

He’s nice and bound but still dead set on fucking Lúcio on his cock. Lúcio can only helplessly hold on for the ride.


End file.
